


Yuri!!!on Sand

by Talle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-25 17:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18265907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talle/pseuds/Talle
Summary: The beach is the perfect balance between domestic bliss and stupid crazy.





	Yuri!!!on Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Wow Yuri on Ice was so good I had to write a oneshot oh fuck I don't wanna fall into this rabbit hole but... I fell into the rabbit hole.  
> My sister suggested the title, I found it hilarious, but it's not really so enjoy my stupid humour okay?

The beach had always been the perfect balance in Yurri’s life, no matter the time, moment or reason for his appearance, planned or unexpected. It was like a third home, a home away from the home away from home. Whenever he was sad, the waves would dance for him, calling out and reminding him  _Yurri_ _,_ _o_ _chitsu_ _ku_ _, it’s ok._  And for some reason it’d speak both English and Japanese, in a blend to help him focus on something other than what plagued his mind. Whenever he was overjoyed, it’d be calmer, the breeze caressing his skin with resounding whispers, and Yurri would bask in the sand at his feet. 

“Watashi wa, Yuri desu.” Yurri began, a stick tracing the sand lightly as he spelt out the words to the simple phrase. The waves rolled against the shore, white noise to both males’ ears. 

“Watashi wa… Yuri desu.” The blonde teen beside him repeated, frowning slightly at the syllables. “Watashi… watashi wa… wa wa wa.” He mumbled. 

“Mhmm.” Yurri nodded, stick tapping impatiently against the ground, “I am Yuri.” 

“That’s all it says.” The kid stumbled in disbelief, “There’s too many vowels.”  

“I ought to think that Russian just has too many consonants.” There was a playful tone to Yurri’s argument, chuckling lowly as his friend kicked at his writing. “Kicking sand won’t help you learn, you’re just gonna end up with sand in your eyes.” 

“Fuck this.” Yuri spat, standing up stiffly. A hand swiped across his jeans, removing excess sand as he cursed again in Russian. Ripped jeans weren’t the best choice of attire for the beach. 

“It’s practice.” Yurri sighed, joining him in standing. “It’ll take a little getting used to.” 

“Well I don’t care, this is stupid.” The teen muttered, bright eyes rolling, “I’m gonna go back… sleep.”  

Yurri nodded as he watched the other, the wind picking up in the process, “STAY SAFE!” He called, but the well wishing clearly fell on deaf ears. 

Now he was left alone.  

Not that being alone was something new to him, Yurri had spent a rather large majority of his life alone, or preferring to keep away from others no matter the cost. He’d been at this beach plenty of times before, and just as in the past, the ocean appeared to know exactly what to do. 

His shoes had been discarded long ago when Yuri and he had first arrived, the teen having begrudgingly asked the elder for a lesson in Japanese, seeing as he, along with Victor had decided to move to Japan. Yurri truly had stolen Victor Nikiforov from the world, and a certain Yuri Plisetsky in the process too it had seemed. 

“Arigatō.” He mumbled, feet tracing the shallow waters as he bent down to inspect the fine sand. He wasn’t sure who he was thanking, perhaps it was the sea? Or maybe Yuri, despite the trouble he’d initially caused; because truthfully, if Yurri had never gotten so low in his skating career, Victor would never have tried to pick him back up.  

Yurri paused as he waded further into the water. Would he still have met Victor? 

As if waiting for an answer, Yuri stared at the ripples around his knees, eyes searching the small lines as if they’d give him an answer. None came, the same repeated pattern flowing around him instead as he carefully tried to roll his shorts up higher. 

There was a loud bark that swiftly cut through Yurri’s thoughts however, and before he could register just who that yell came from, he’d found his body submerged into the cool water, gushing up his nose and in his mouth as he fumbled to resurface quickly. 

“MAKKACHIN NO!” Called a far off voice, and only then did Yurri realise that the beloved poodle who was usually well behaved, had taken a likening to Yurri’s lap. 

A smile cracked from his lips as he readjusted his glasses, smudged and dripping with water. “Ah Makkachin!” He greeted the dog, a hand running through the wet curls of fur. “Makkachin you need to get up so I can get up!” The dog turned its head to stare at Yurri curiously, deciding that licking his face would be a better outcome. “Makkachin no! Stop!” Yurri’s pleads were spaced out between light laughter. 

On the shore, Victor could see Yurri struggling as he shook his head with a sigh. Neither one of the two would be leaving any time soon unless he dragged them out by force. “YURRI! MAKKACHIN! COME ON!” He called, thick Russian accent rolling off of his tongue. 

Slowly, Victor had begun rolling his jeans up and slipping off his shoes, hopeful that the longer he took, the bigger chance he wouldn’t have to follow them into the cold water. Alas, fate wasn’t on his side today. 

By the time he’d reached Yurri and his beloved Makkachin, Victor was desperately trying to hold in a laugh. “Yurri my love, everyone is waiting for us to get back for dinner.” 

Yurri tilted his head up and met Victor’s gaze, a hand tightening around his calf as if to pull himself up. Makkachin finally plopped into the water, freeing Yurri, paddling around experimentally. “Ok, we can go.” Yurri grinned, “Also you have nice legs.” 

Victor failed to suppress a laugh as Yurri clung to him in a death grip. “Drag me to shore!” He commanded, face nuzzling him. 

“Yurri I’ll trip and fall!” Victor warned, but could only shout in protest as Yurri decided to simply drag him down anyway, spraying water everywhere while earning a delighted yap from Makkachin. 

“YURRI KATSUKI!!” Victor screeched, hair flopping limply as he brushed his bangs away from his eyes. “I can’t believe you.” Yurri pecked his cheek in consolation, squishing his cheeks as Victor continued to pout. 

“Five more minutes Vitya…” The Japanese man whines, spraying water into his fiancé’s face. Victor sighed with a shake of his head. 

Five minutes became an hour and a half. 

In fact, they’d gotten so caught up in their little game with Makkachin, that it had been the dog who had recognised the new figure standing at the water’s edge. 

“WATASHI WA MAD! WATASHI WA HUNGRY! WATASHI WA—“ 

“Is that… Yuri?” Victor squinted, eyeing the blonde jumping up and down. 

“Who else would it be?” Yurri snorted, beckoning Victor to follow him in the paddle back to shore. The two of them had gone further out without realising, the sea reaching the crooks of their necks. 

“WATASHI WA STILL WAITING FOR YOU TO P _OLUCHIT’ SVOYU ZADNITSU ZDES_ ’!!!”  

“Did he just speak Russian?” Yurri asked. 

“He said ‘Get your ass back here’.” Victor supplied. 

“And he was using improper Japanese.” Yurri clicked his tongue, “I see we have a bit more work to do.”

The two laughed as they finally began their ascent from the water, dripping wet and partially cold from the change in temperature. 

“Hurry up you idiots.” Yuri spat, eyes rolling, “I want dinner.” 

“Of course Yuri.” Yurri smiled, grabbing the teen in a hug, “But first — WET GROUP HUG!” 

The beach’s waves crashed lazily against the sand as Makkachin bounded over to the trio, sand spraying their legs haphazardly. The wind whistled lightly as Victor tightened the embrace, Yuri’s childish screams about PDA being carried across the empty beach for all too hear. 

And the waves rolled against the sand calmly. 

 


End file.
